


Go On, Get It Out Then

by blithelybonny



Series: The Lusty Month of May [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And Knows Exactly What He's Doing, Draco is a little shit, Manipulation, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Most of Them are Embarrassment at His Own Erection, Multi, Power Dynamics, Ron Is Feeling A Lot of Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron would be a great interrogator, except for this one little thing. Well, it's not little, actually, thanks ever so...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go On, Get It Out Then

The thing is, is that Ron knows this is fucked up. And he's also not even gay, so he doesn't know why it's even happening in the first place. (Nothing against gay people, obviously, and also he knows all about the spectrum of sexuality, so sure, it's possible that there's some latent bisexuality blossoming on his part, but he really doesn't think so because it only happens when he interrogates someone -- well, one someone in particular, actually. Which is why it's so incredibly beyond fucked up.) But when he’s got Malfoy across the little table from him looking all defiant until he realizes his own impotence in the situation and wilts, well, frankly, all the blood in Ron’s body goes racing to his cock. Sometimes it's bad enough that he has to actually palm himself under the table as discreetly as he can manage just to get through the line of questioning.

And this is so not the kind of thing he can tell his wife, even though Hermione is also his friend, as well as the smartest person he knows. And it’s also not like he can just waltz into Harry’s office and tell him either, because even though Harry is his best friend, Harry is well on his way to becoming Ron’s boss, and Ron doesn’t want to put Harry in an awkward position if he can help it.

Which he can. It's not like he’d ever actually do anything about this, whatever the hell this weird quirk with his stupid, randy body is. It's not like he’d ever actually get his cock out and feed it between Malfoy’s lips like he’s currently imagining, as Malfoy lies his way through the answer to what he was doing at Borgin and Burke’s two nights ago. Ron absolutely has self-control.

“You need to stop ending up in here!” Ron suddenly shouts. And okay, maybe it comes out a little mad-sounding because Malfoy’s chewing on his lower lip, getting it all red and plump and kiss-bit, and it is extremely attractive. _Malfoy_ isn’t attractive -- there isn’t a force on this or any other Earth that will compel Ron to admit that he finds Malfoy attractive -- but what he is doing is definitely attractive, and well, Ron supposes that yes, he is able to admit to that fact. His body obviously likes it, but it’s also more than possible that his body is a complete idiot.

Malfoy rolls his eyes at Ron in response. “Your incompetent lot need to stop bringing me in for nothing so heinous as a trip to the shops,” he replies.

Ron tries not to splutter, but he doesn’t really succeed so much, when he rejoins, “You were skulking around Knockturn again, Malfoy!”

“I’d hardly call it _skulking_. It was the middle of the day, and I was walking quite normally.” Malfoy sucks his lower lip back between his teeth and begins worrying it again, even as his eyes glitter with mischief.

The wanker _knows_! The stupid git knows exactly what he’s doing, and worse, he obviously knows that it’s _working_! It shouldn’t be working, but that’s totally besides the point. It’s not like Ron’s going to do anything about it. It’s not like he would ever get his cock out right here, right now and paint Malfoy’s face with spunk.

“You’re awfully red, there, Weaselbee,” Malfoy drawls and leans forward with his elbows on the little interrogation table and his pointy chin in his hands. “Feeling all right?”

“Just...just shut up, Malfoy,” Ron responds, feeling his color climb even higher.

Malfoy chuckles, low in the back of his throat, all husky and, fucking hell, Ron is seriously hard enough to do some actual damage -- like he could cut glass with the wood he’s sporting, and it’s so very, incredibly uncomfortable. He absolutely needs to get his hand down his trousers right now, but he also absolutely _cannot at all do that because it would be so entirely fucked up_. “You’re so transparent, Weasley,” Malfoy then says, leaning further forward on the table. He nibbles on his lower lip again, and Ron is pretty sure that he’s going to have a small heart attack. Or come in his pants like a teenager.

“You don’t even-- you don’t know--” Ron cuts himself off because he’s pretty sure he sounds both insane and definitely like he’s losing ground in this entire interaction. He should probably just cut his losses and let someone else finish interrogating Malfoy. Because he’s not really getting anywhere is the thing; he’s not getting the answers he needs to get because he’s distracted, and a distracted Auror is a...well is a distracted Auror. There’s more to that saying, he’s pretty sure, but he can’t remember it because his prick is actually throbbing, and it’s just...it’s not just not even funny anymore. It wasn’t actually funny in the first place either, come to that.

Malfoy raises an eyebrow at him, and it’s so fucking smarmy and judgmental, and Ron really doesn’t have to take that from anyone, let alone a piece of human garbage like Draco Malfoy. But then, well -- then Malfoy says, “Go on. Get it out then. Do it. You know you want to, so you might as well just do it.”

And that’s absolutely enough. Ron’s absolutely had it. Fuck Malfoy. He doesn’t have to fucking listen to this shit anymore!

And it’s so not like he’s letting Malfoy _win_ or anything because that isn’t at all what’s happening here. He’s not admitting defeat, and he’s definitely not in the wrong about this. He’s just...he’s just going to leave Malfoy to stew for a bit while he takes care of the pressing issue that he can go back to resolutely ignoring as soon as he takes care of it.

Because it’s not a big deal actually. It’s fucked up, sure, but it’s just a thing that happens sometimes, and he can absolutely deal with it. Or not because there’s really nothing to deal with. It’s just some stupid little thing that happened a couple of times before and likely isn’t ever going to happen again.

If he gets it out of his system maybe.

“Go on, Weasley, get it out,” Malfoy repeats, dropping his voice even lower. “I’m here, and I’m all helpless, and I won’t tell a soul.”

Malfoy’s eyes are all wide and big and limpid, and it’s such a total act, but fuck, if it was possible to get even harder, Ron’s pretty sure he has. “Fuck.” It falls from his mouth totally unbidden, and as soon as it does, he realizes that he’s made a massive tactical error, and Merlin’s saggy tits, he needs to leave this room right now.

And so he does. Without a backward glance at Malfoy’s stupid laughing face and with an incredibly awkward gait because of his monster fucking erection that is in the way. But he does, he leaves. He leaves, and he doesn’t look back, and he goes straight to the showers, and he gets his cock out and he’s pretty sure that nothing has ever felt better in his Entire. Fucking. Life.

He strokes firmly, fucking into the tight circle of his thumb and two forefingers. The water is almost too hot, but it feels so completely brilliant on his back and down his arse, as he thrusts forward.

He shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but somehow that almost makes it better? Which is so beyond fucked up. It really is, and he’s definitely going to have to deal with it, he knows this, but right now, he’s just going to concentrate on the feel of his hand on his prick. He forms his hand into a fist instead of just the three fingers.

“Fucking take it, you little bastard,” Ron says, sharply fucking his hips forward into his fist.

He can see Malfoy’s smug, pointy face in his head, imagines Malfoy all helpless for real, begging to be set free from Auror custody. _I’ll do whatever you say, sir,_ says Malfoy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Ron buries his face into his forearm as he comes hard, coating his fingers and shooting against the tile.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, but when he finally shuts off the water, after washing the remains of his pleasure down the drain, Ron decides that no matter how incredibly fucked up this whole thing is, there’s one thing he’s absolutely certain of: that felt really, really fucking good.


End file.
